


I'd Do Anything (For You Mean Everything)

by agoodpersonrose



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anxious David Rose, David Rose is a Good Person, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mention of blood, Minor Injuries, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Romance, Season/Series 05, accidental injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29240937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodpersonrose/pseuds/agoodpersonrose
Summary: It starts, as it always does, with Alexis.David gets it in his head that Patrick does more for their relationship than he does, and so spends the day trying to take over on all the things Patrick usually does for him. It does not go to plan.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 34
Kudos: 260





	I'd Do Anything (For You Mean Everything)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fairmanor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairmanor/gifts).



> Title if from I'd Do Anything from Oliver! which I have decided that Patrick inexplicitly loves, because I do.

It starts, as it always does, with Alexis.

David likes to think that he is far too old-- No-- _mature,_ to fall for her ridiculous schemes; designed to make him feel bad about the most innocuous of things. While she likes to believe herself an expert on romance, and true, she has been far more successful than David ever has been in ensnaring unsuspecting international men into comparatively long-term connections in the past, her advice is often misplaced, though well-intentioned, and usually leads to more issues than there were in the first place.

And yet…

“Is that Patrick’s car pulling up outside? So cute of him to put so much effort into taking care of you, David. He really does do a lot for you.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

As usual, Alexis seems vaguely frustrated that he hasn’t immediately accepted her backhanded compliment with open eyed awe. “Ugh, David, I just mean he’s very attentive. I hope you’re not taking advantage, because honestly that boy would run tear himself into tiny little pieces for you; you’d better be making sure that he gets some time off.”

“Time off- Time off what?” David exclaims, pausing where he’s bent over the bed, packing his day bag, and straightening up to stare across the room at Alexis who is perched at the table. “Time off from me? From our relationship?”

“You know that’s not what I mean, David!”

“Well, it’s what you said!”

“I didn't mean anything, I was just _saying!”_

“Well can you _not_ say, please? I don’t see why you have to stick your nose into everyone else’s business, I--”

Both siblings freeze at the knock on the door, and David throws his hands around in frustration. Patrick stands on the other side, his eyes crinkled with humour and sparkling in the early morning light.

“Hi, you ready to go? I could hear the yelling from the car and figured you might need prompting.”

For some reason, David feels all the tension draining out of his limbs at the very sight of his boyfriend, dimpled smile and neatly ironed button-up and all, and nods firmly. “Yes, I’m ready, let’s go,” he says, stopping back at the bed for his bag, which Patrick automatically takes from him and throws over one shoulder.

On their way out of the room, David catches eye contact with Alexis, who makes a pointed look between them. “Oh my God,” he mutters under his breath as the tugs the keys out his pocket ready to lock the door behind him.

Alexis just hums happily to herself and wiggles one finger at him, turning back to whatever magazine she was stealing torture methods from.

The statement weighs on David’s brain all the while, however; how much Patrick does for him. It’s not that he hasn’t noticed before how caring and doting his boyfriend can be; Patrick basically has “Acts of Service” stamped on his forehead, and the whole town knows it.

But he hadn’t considered that he might be taking advantage of Patrick’s giving spirit. Liking it a little too much, maybe.

Patrick seems to notice his pensive mood; he’s sending David glances the whole car ride to the store, half-confused, half-fond. It’s not until they’re unlocking the front door, and Patrick turns to him that they speak again.

“I’ll just pop across the road to the café and get the drinks,” Patrick says, reaching to kiss David’s cheek and head on his merry way. David ducks however, and scrambles to grab onto his boyfriend’s arm.

“I’ll do it!” he all but yells, unable to quite drum up an apologetic look as he rushes across the road, Patrick shouting from behind him to remind him to _“check for traffic, David!”_

He makes it across the road safely, pushing his way into the café and hurrying over to the bar to order. It is almost empty, what with it being so early, and Twyla is humming along to the music in far too cheery a tone.

“Oh, hi, David! I don’t usually see you here this early in the morning. What can I get you?”

“Um, our usual please. A caramel macchiato, skimmed, two sweeteners, and a sprinkle of cocoa powder for me, and a tea for Patrick.”

Twyla nods peppily and turns to start grinding the coffee beans. “Which tea would Patrick like to try this morning?”

“Um- what?”

“He’s been trying all of them in turn, he had the jasmine yesterday, which one would you like to get him today?”

David falters, frowning and trying to think back on the day before; whether Patrick seemed to be enjoying his drink or not as the day went on, but nothing jumps out at him. “Um, do you think he enjoyed the jasmine?” he asks, but at Twyla’s confused expression, shakes his head. “Nevermind, um, I think, the Earl Grey? Maybe?”

“Sure, coming right up.”

Twyla drums on the counter and turns two cups over while David looks around the café. His mind is preoccupied, worrying that Patrick might be using the wrong spray to disinfect the counter, and messing up his opening routine. It takes Twyla waving a hand in front of his face to pull him out of his reverie.

“Here are your drinks.”

“Oh, thanks, um, wait- I’m sure my wallet is in here somewhere,” David says, digging around in his pockets, suddenly having a picture of his hand stitched leather wallet sitting on his bedside table at the motel. “Oh, fuck, I left it at the motel. Um, do you mind if I run and get--”

“No worries, I’ll add it to your tab,” Twyla brushes it off, but David shakes his head. Patrick would not be impressed by that in any way, and this is meant to be a nice gesture.

“No, I- um, I’ll run back to the motel, except then I’ll be late to open. Or I’ll, um--”

“David,” Twyla interrupts. “Pay me back next time you’re in, I’ll write an ‘I owe you’ for the till.”

David chews his lip but finally nods reluctantly. “Thank you, Twyla, I’ll pay you back.”

Twyla grins at him. “Of course, David. Have a nice day- And let me know what Patrick thinks of the tea!”

David nods and heads back out of the café, stumbling through the door and almost knocking over Bob in the process, who steps back with a friendly laugh, and claps his hand on David’s shoulder.

“Oop, you’d better mind where you’re going there, Dave. Wouldn’t want to cause an accident now, would you?”

David bares his teeth in what he hopes appears like a grin, “Ha- Nope.”

He tries to get past, but Bob steps out in front of him again to stop him.

“Um, can I help you with something? It’s just I need to go and open my store.”

“Well, since you offered, there is actually something I wanted to ask,” Bob says, suddenly turning serious. “You don’t happen to have any more of that scented massage oils that you were selling during Singles Week in stock, do you?”

David’s grimace is larger this time, and he swallows. “Um, I’d have to check our stock, but as you can see, I’m not _in_ the store right now, so I couldn’t be sure. Did you want to buy some?”

“No, not exactly,” Bob says, dropping his voice as if sharing something secret. David resists the urge to take a large step back. “Well, it would just really be doing me a huge favour if you could perhaps,” he searches for words for a moment, “hold them back for me.”

“So, you _do_ want to buy them, then?”

“Well, no, I don’t want to buy them. You see, it’s just that _Gwen_ is quite a big fan of them.”

“Huh, so, um, _Gwen_ wants to buy them?”

“Yes, exactly! So, if you could just hold them back, and maybe hide them somewhere- in the back, so they aren’t in the open.”

“Okay, well, it’s not actually our store policy to hold back stock for people, so, I can’t- do that,” David tries to explain, but he can feel his coffee getting colder in his hands by the second and his patience is starting to drain.

“Oh, are you sure? It’s just that--”

“Look, the store isn’t even open yet, and it won’t _be_ open if I don’t go--” David points towards the doors. “So, if you don’t mind.”

“Ah, of course, busy man, lots to do. Just, think about what I said? I’d really appreciate it if Gwen didn’t buy any more of it--”

David is distracted, having finally dipped around Bob and escaped back towards the Apothecary. It only sinks in as he finally clambers up the front step of the door what Bob had said.

“Wait, he _doesn’t_ want Gwen to buy it?” David mumbles to himself in disbelief as he finally pushes the door open and listens for the familiar rattle of the bell.

Seeing Patrick again is almost enough to make the trip worth it. He looks up from where he is digging around beneath the counter and grins wryly, going straight in for the teasing. “Hey, took you long enough. You know, I was worried for a second you might have gotten lost on your way back, or maybe fallen asleep in a ditch somewhere due to a tragic lack of caffeine.”

“It’s not _my_ fault that I got accosted by rowdy townspeople on my way back!”

Patrick grins and bounces his pen on the desk. “Bob?” David hums in agreement. “Yeah, you’ve just got to tell him that he’s more than welcome to come in during store hours but that we can’t discuss work matters when the store isn’t open.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” David huffs.

“Well, no matter. Hey, you don’t know where the rest of the receipt tape is, do you? I could have sworn I put it under here.”

David places the cup holder on the counter and nods. “We don’t keep it under there anymore, remember? It’s in the storeroom, in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet.”

“When did we move that?” Patrick asks, looking distracted.

“Probably after the third time I almost gave myself a concussion from digging around under the front desk,” David says, squeezing Patrick’s hips as he passes him and heads into the back room.

“Oh, thank you,” Patrick says sheepishly as David hands him the fresh roll. “And thank you for the tea. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, you do it every day, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but that’s--”

They are interrupted by the ding of the bell, as a peppy looking Jocelyn enters. Patrick tips his head to the side, the usual silent offer for David to retreat with his coffee into the back of the store and re-emerge, caffeinated, and ready to go.

Except, this time, the words from Alexis come back to him, and instead, David presses Patrick’s tea into his hands, and pushes him lightly into the back room.

“We’re not open yet, Jocelyn!” David says in the politest voice he can muster. He clenches his jaw when, instead of apologising and coming back later, Jocelyn literally takes the matter into her own hands, turning around and flipping the sign on the door so that it outwardly displays _open._

“Well, you are now!” she says cheerily, as if she hasn’t just committed a serial offence at 8:57 AM. “I just had a little question for you boys about the hand cream I bought last week.”

David clenches his teeth but helps her anyway while his special coffee order goes cold on the counter in front of him. She ends up leaving having bought nothing and caused considerable stress to David’s already uncomfortable day.

The lack of caffeine makes him snappy, even worse so when he finds Patrick’s cup in the back room, still full and undrunk, because he had bought the wrong type of tea.

David decides that perhaps acts of service are not the direction he should go in if he wants to make sure he’s helping Patrick, and instead, moves to an alternate method.

The store quietens down around midday, only a few customers popping in and out for essentials, and quickly browsing, so when Patrick suggests that David takes his lunch break first, he eagerly accepts.

“I put the leftover pasta Ray made last night in the mini fridge,” Patrick tells him from where he’s manning the cash. “And I’m sure we can damage out a bottle of juice to make up for the cold coffee this morning.”

“Mm, that’s bad business practice, Mr Brewer, what has gotten into you?” David teases, but he squeezes his shoulder nonetheless, and then lingers a second longer than necessary.

“David, are you going?” Patrick asks, when David continues to just stand behind him.

“Mhm, just--"

David leans forward and kisses Patrick’s neck in a quick pecking noise, hoping it might have the same effect it usually does on him whenever Patrick does it to him; never failing to set his skin alight and spread warmth through his entire body.

David nods in satisfaction, not noticing the way Patrick uncomfortably squirms in response, and heads into the back room for his lunch.

When Patrick closes the store for ten minutes to come and join him for lunch, David has already pulled his pasta out of the fridge to make sure it’s room temperature. He makes room for Patrick on the small sofa and they eat in quiet companionship, every so often making a comment about stock count, or a certain product or vendor they need to get in touch with.

David is just packing away the empty pots when Patrick makes a confused noise.

“It’s only been five minutes, David, we don’t need to rush back.”

David freezes and frowns. “But it’s not good business practice to leave the store closed when customers might want to come in and shop?” he parrots the words Patrick has said to him so many times before. “You always tell me that?”

“Yeah, and you always ignore me. Have I- have I done something wrong?”

Patrick looks so genuinely confused, and David tries to think back to what he would do if it were David that were upset, coming up blank.

“So, you don’t want to re-open the store?” David asks.

“No, I don’t mean- I just, you’ve been on edge all day, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” David insists, sitting down on his couch cushion, and holding his hands out for Patrick to climb into _his_ lap, a clear deviation from the usual routine.

Patrick hesitates, frowning suspiciously, but seems to decide that there is no threat in David’s words, and silently moves to sit across David’s lap, winding his arms around his neck and hanging on tight.

David immediately regrets the offer, as it turns out Patrick’s bum is deceivingly bony, and he’s heavy- his weight leaning back slightly, so clearly not comfortable with balancing his centre of gravity, and unsure what to do now that he’s settled.

David kisses his neck again, and they sit in an awkward silence for a moment longer. Usually, by now, David would be curled up in Patrick’s lap, ranting about something that had happened during the day, or perhaps raving excitedly about a new fall collection. Either that, or they’d have shifted to a slow make out session, with David straddling Patrick, trying desperately to maintain enough self-awareness to remember the time and place, and usually failing miserably.

This new position just feels stunted, and awkward, and like something is wrong.

They remain seated in silence, however, until Patrick finally looks at the clock and nods. “We should probably re-open now.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of customers rushing in and out. The new collection of fall scented candles are selling well, which David can’t help but be proud of, but he is careful not to boast too much to Patrick who had been cautious of them at the start.

They stick to their own usual closing chores; David doesn’t trust himself not to mess up counting the till and filling in the profit sheets, and he doesn’t want to make Patrick end up doing both. Although, from his own experience, Patrick has never been particularly good at the intricate dusting and cleaning routine that David has perfected, so it’s probably best that they continue as usual.

They head out of the Apothecary together, heading towards the back of the store where Patrick’s blue Sedan is parked.

“Um, how about I drive?” David offers as they approach it.

Patrick looks surprised, which makes sense, as David has historically taken any excuse not to have to drive that he can. “Really?”

“Sure, you’ve had a long day, I think I can manage to get us back to Ray’s in one piece.”

“If you insist,” Patrick replies, shrugging and passing David to keys to the car. He climbs into the passenger seat as David takes a minute to regret his offer, but finally they are belted up and ready to go.

It takes them almost double the time it would usually take for them to get back to Ray’s, and as he indicates right into the driveway, David suddenly remembers that Patrick usually backs it in.

He stops, chews his lip, and moves the car a little bit further forward, determined to avoid Patrick’s gaze as he tries to work out the angle, to reverse the car in.

“Um, you might want to--” Patrick interrupts, pointing out that another car is trying to get past where David is still blocking the road.

He hums in acknowledgement and moves the car forward again, muttering a bitter _“you’re welcome”_ under his breath when the driver of the truck fails to thank him. He tries again, but this time the angle is even further off.

David ends up with the car in an awkward slant across the road, looking away from Patrick as he reverses once over the peonies outside of Ray’s house, and then back forward over them when he tries to correct his error. Patrick is silent the entire time, clearly trying not to put any added pressure on David’s shoulders, but David can feel his presence nonetheless, and after five whole minutes of trying, turns to him with a helpless expression.

“Can you please--?” David gestures to his general shoddy parking, and is relieved to find that Patrick grins, leans over and kisses David’s cheek, and jumps out of the car. He opens the driver’s side door and gestures for David to get out, quickly and efficiently fixing his angle and parking the car in his first try.

“Look, David,” he is saying as he climbs back out and locks the car. “It’s a tricky angle to get right, and I’ve done it a thousand times, so I’ve had a lot of practice. Plus, you’re not used to my car, so that would have been an added challenge for you.”

David huffs and shrugs, grateful when Patrick snakes an arm around his waist to comfort him as they finally head into the house.

Ray had told them the night before that he would be out late tonight; something about a drag queen karaoke bingo night in Elm Glen which they were _“more than welcome to join and show support”._ Patrick had turned the offer down despite David’s tentative interest in the glitter and heels that Ray had been digging out of the hallway closet but had promised David that they could attend next time.

Having privacy and the house to themselves was a luxury they still weren’t used to, even just for date nights. David is looking forward to a night of relaxation, popping open a bottle of wine, ordering a pizza, and making out on the couch to the sound of one of the Julia’s, of maybe a Hugh Grant number playing in the background.

It’s all working out perfectly; the pizza has been ordered, they have both changed into house clothes, and are just taking their seats on the couch when Patrick turns to David. “So, what film is it tonight?”

David opens his mouth, already prepared to suggest Notting Hill, or perhaps Bridget Jones; he’s in the mood for British accents and Patrick’s coy attempts to copy them, when Alexis’ voice comes back to him and he hesitates.

“I’m not sure, what do _you_ want to watch?”

Patrick seems surprised by the question, but he ponders it for a moment. “Well,” he says, “I wouldn’t say no to a musical?”

Usually, the suggestion would be disregarded immediately, but Patrick seems genuine in his request, and David can’t help but nod, helplessly. “Which one?”

“I think Oliver is on here somewhere.”

Well, crap. Oliver is definitely not a making out film. David already knows that Patrick loves this one; has loved it since he was a child, when his Mom used to sit with him on sick days, and hum along to the music. He’ll want to pay attention to the story line, and he will _definitely_ not want to stop the film halfway to go and find more interesting things to do upstairs.

But David had offered, so he nods anyway, and Patrick’s answering grin is almost worth the great sacrifice he is making by agreeing to this. Almost.

They settle in, glasses of wine in hand, and eventually pizza too. David spares a moment to be grateful that he and Patrick had already compromised on their usual pizza toppings very early in the relationship as he digs into a cheesy slice with relief.

Once they are all finished, fingers wiped on napkins, not on sweatpants, and washed down with another sip of wine, they both sit back. Patrick immediately moves to get into their usual snuggled up position; David tucked into his side under his arm, while Patrick’s hand traces patterns in his shoulders.

Before he can, though, David throws his own arm up, trying to take Patrick’s usual position, but immediately catching his elbow on Patrick’s face.

“Ow--!”

“Fuck!”

David jerks away in horror, looking at Patrick’s wounded expression as he holds a hand over his nose. A small trickle of blood has formed at the bottom of his nostril, and David immediately grabs napkins to try and mop up the damage.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to- Oh my God--” David rambles, not really helping much but continuing to throw napkin after napkin at Patrick’s face.

He’s still yammering on when Patrick dissolves into a snorting laughter. It’s gross; both the noise and the fact that is makes more blood bubble up out of his nose. But, he’s looking at David with sparkling eyes full of humour, and he’s dabbing at the blood in an unconcerned manner, wiping it gently as he laughs.

David lets out a relieved breath but can’t quite bring himself to laugh too, too concerned about the damage he’s already done to his boyfriend.

“What even happened there, David?” Patrick asks once he’s calmed down, and the blood has stopped dripping from his face. “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“No! No, it wasn’t anything!”

“Well, it was something, I hope.”

“I just- I thought you might want to, you know, cuddle me,” David mumbles, his eyes too focused on the drying red splotch on Patrick’s face.

“So, you decided to elbow me in the face?”

“That clearly wasn’t the plan!”

Patrick is still grinning, so David doesn’t worry too much, and just lets out a huff of annoyance. “Well, I am definitely cuddling you this time,” Patrick says as he blows his nose slightly into the final clean napkin. “I think I’ve earned it.”

“That’s the point!” David exclaims finally, sitting up and waving his hands around in frustration.

Patrick goes silent, surprised by David’s outburst and looking at him with concern.

“You shouldn’t have to earn that; I get it all the time! I don’t do anything to earn it when you do all these things for me, and I do nothing in return to deserve it!” he rants, not allowing Patrick’s slowly opening mouth to deter him. “I mean, you do all these things for me; you pick me up to take me to work, and you deal with the difficult customers, and you let me sit in your lap, and you buy me coffee--”

“David--”

“I bet you at least pay for the coffee, which _fuck,_ I forgot to do today!”

Patrick tilts his head. “You didn’t pay for the drinks today?”

David groans miserably and buries his face in his hands. He takes a few deep breaths, like he’s been practicing, and finally looks back over to his boyfriend, who looks confused, yet somehow still charmed by David’s outburst.

“Oh, God, you have dried blood on your face,” he mutters, as soon as his head is raised out from his hands. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He pulls an unresistant Patrick by the wrist to the bathroom upstairs and leads him to sit down on the closed toilet seat. David pulls out a washcloth and wets it, tilting Patrick’s chin up with a finger and carefully dabbing at the now dried blood still spotted around his nose, wincing apologetically all the while.

Once he’s done, he puts some moisturiser on his finger and pats that on too to soothe the skin, finally holding Patrick’s cheeks up to review his work. “I’m really sorry,” he murmurs as Patrick leans into the touch.

“David,” Patrick mumbles reverently, tugging at his wrists and pulling him down to sit across his lap. “You really do have no idea what you do for me, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

Patrick scoffs, but his hand starts rubbing David’s shoulders as he talks softly into the quiet bathroom. “You do so much for me, David. You keep the store tidy and organised when you know it would be chaos if it were left to me. You know where everything is, and you do all the cleaning and maintenance because you know that I don’t like doing it.”

“That’s just my job--” David tries to argue but Patrick puts a finger over his mouth so that he is free to continue.

“You always make sure I take my lunch break, even when the spreadsheets are sucking my soul away and I’ve forgotten to check the time. You have always initiated contact first, even when I wasn’t brave enough to do it. Even when I didn’t think I’d ever work up the courage to do it.

“You’re affectionate even when I’m teasing you, you compromise even when you don’t want to, you’re constantly checking in to make sure I’m happy.

“You force me to wear a coat and scarf when it’s cold outside, and don’t think I didn’t notice that that new moisturiser you got for me is SPF 50--”

“You burn very easily,” David mumbles, embarrassed.

“Last month, when I had that cold, you sat with me when I was sick, even though you hated the germs, and the sniffing, and the ‘flem noises’. You stayed up late and rubbed my back for hours the other week because I couldn’t sleep because I was too anxious. You always carry snacks with you because you know I get grouchy when I’m hungry--”

“The snacks are for me.”

“The granola bars are not for you, David, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat one in your life. You never double knot your own shoelaces but when you tie up mine, you do.”

Patrick trails off and buries his head in David’s shoulder, breathing in slowly.

“You do so much for me, David Rose. You just don’t seem to see it.”

David lets out a long breath of air, and finally lets his shoulders drop, pulling Patrick in closer and kissing the top of his head.

“Okay--”

“That being said,” Patrick continues after a moment, looking up with mischievous eyes. “I think it’s definitely my turn to be the little spoon tonight. After all, you did almost permanently maim me trying to give me a hug.”

David lets out a dramatic groan all for effect but can’t seem to keep the grin off his face. “Ugh, fine, whatever you want,” he murmurs, leaning in and kissing Patrick slowly. When he pulls away, he’s pulling a slightly disgruntled face.

“Don’t tell me I still taste of blood?” Patrick asks, spotting the expression.

“No, I was just thinking about it.”

Patrick laughs, and pushes him off him, dragging him down the stairs to finish the film. David doesn’t argue, but he does curl up into Patrick’s side when he lifts his arm to make room for him. After all, it’s only fair.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought in the comments! ⭐️


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